Cassia Alba (Short Story)
The warm afternoon rays bathed the waters of the port of Roam like a woven tapestry of rippling shades of reds and oranges. In the distant horizon, the sun lowered in the evening sky as Apollo finished his daily chariot ride. Cassia Alba stood on the solid wooden planks of the dock area, watching as sailors carried crates and other paraphernalia onto a merchant ship. The ship's wooden figurehead was that of a Roman centurion, a symbol thought to ward off danger and inspire valour, according to her father. Her eyes could just barely make out the details of the centurion's plumed helmet and the grooves which made up the individual strands of hair which made up the plume. The centurion's gladius' edges were perfectly straight, the epiphany of sharpness. His eyes looked forwards valiantly, sword pointed forwards as if he were leading a cohort into battle. She sighed; her older brother had been in the Roman Auxilia and the local garrison. On a routine patrol, on the roads leading from Roam, his patrol unit had been ambushed by brigands. The last she had seen of her brother was his grave with the simple, yet insulting epitaph: "Peace be to those who die in service of their country" Their family had originated from Pergamon in the region of Aeolis in Asia Minor. He had died a Greek under Roman subjugation, not a free Greek. Her mother had then committed suicide out of grief, devastating her father. She now stood on the wooden causeway of a Roman port as she watched her father prepare to leave for a business trip to the port city of Massalia in a Roman province her father had said was called "Gallia Narbonensis". She crossed one foot over the other, hugging her arms to her chest in a solemn pose. It had never been easy for her to grow up in Roam, where all the other Roman children had teased her for her slightly noticeable accent. Now she had to watch as her last remaining family member sailed off to a faraway port, with the chance of being overtaken by pirates or disaster at sea. From the stern of the ship, her father met her gaze as he shouted orders to the sailors onboard. He was a middle aged man, now in his 50's, with streaks of gray intermingled with his black hair. He was a well built man, having spent time in the Auxilia himself before becoming a merchant in Roam. A mischievous twinkle in his eyes and smile wrinkles told one that he may have been handsome as a younger man. He walked briskly across the deck of the ship and down the gangplank, enclosing her in a hug that smelled of the saltiness of the sea and sweat. Even after many years, she found it oddly comforting. Her family had a long history of being fishermen and merchants; Poseidon's domain was all but natural to her. He broke the hug, holding her at elbow's length, smiling with his usual, infectious warmth, murmuring, "Be good for me Cassia. It will only take a few weeks, I promise." She tried to remain solemn but a crack of a smile broke out on her lips and she could only whisper, "Alright father." She watched as he turned tail, walking back up the gangplank. Several spear armed soldiers boarded the ship as sailors made the final preparations. Ropes were untied to let the ship free and oars locked into place. She watched as the square, canvas sails on each of the three masts were unfurled to their full length. Oars were slipped into the tranquil waters and she watched as the ship reversed out of port, turning as it left. She spotted her father upon the deck of the ship, waving to her. She watched as his eyes narrowed in sadness; she could tell that he wanted to stay with her in Roam. As the ship became more distant in the horizon, she was left standing on the wooden causeway in the light of the dying sun, alone. Grasping the sea shell pendant her father had given her, she somehow knew, whether by divine or self-intuition, she would not see him for a long time. Category:One-Shot Category:Fanfiction Category:Roman Category:Greek Category:SorrowfulReprise